Seliora didn’t question me, but she wouldn’t have had time, because a gigantic unseen hammer slammed the north side of the house. Stones toppled into the house, with some fragments and chunks of masonry and stone and tiles sliding off and around my shields, even as all manner of rubble built up in the hallway and rolled into the bedchamber. Glass sprayed against the shields like grapeshot. The house, solidly built as it was, groaned and shifted.
I could sense something-two somethings, I thought-hurtling toward us, toward my shields and in a fit of anger, image-shifted them back to the point from where they had come. At that moment, my entire body felt like it had been squeezed in a vice. That feeling passed, but my eyes blurred, and I felt dizzy.
The house shifted again…and more rubble settled.
Then came the sound of another massive explosion, followed by others, right in a row, somewhere to the north.
At that moment, I was so exhausted I could barely move, and my whole body ached, but I knew I had to hold the shields to protect Seliora and Diestrya until we could get out of the house and the rubble around us. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a time longer.
After everything settled, I turned to Seliora. “I’m holding shields. I don’t know what will collapse. We’ll move to where we can get clothes and boots and then make our way out. I think the south side of the house isn’t as badly damaged.”
We just grabbed clothing and boots before making our way down the rubble-filled staircase, more like sliding down the balustrade, but the dwelling had been so solidly built that the main level was clear, if dusty.
My head was pounding, and my whole body ached. Donning the basic grays quickly in the front foyer was difficult, and my eyes kept blurring, from the dust, I supposed. When we finally stepped out of the house, I was struck by the diffuse light filling the northern sky, as if something were burning brightly on the River Aluse, and yet droplets of ice fell out of the sky.
Fire and ice? How could that be?
Yet that light, already fading, allowed me to see the devastation around me. Master Dichartyn’s house was rubble. So was Maitre Dyana’s, as was the larger dwelling that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s. I turned, and my entire body twinged, and a wave a blackness swept toward me, but receded, although I could feel that it had not retreated that far. Out of the smoky haze, I could see Maitre Dyana walking toward me, dressed in working grays.
Behind me, Seliora was saying something, but I couldn’t hear the words. I felt light-headed, and dizzy, and my entire body tingled, but I pushed that away. I had to know what had happened, what Maitre Dyana knew.
Maitre Dyana stopped in front of me, then said, “Sit down. Now!”
I almost made it before the blackness slammed me down.
26
The next time I woke up was with gray walls around me, but my eyes wouldn’t focus, and I couldn’t talk. Someone fed me something soft, and I drank something, and the blackness rose up again. That sort of thing must have happened for a while, because I thought I saw people around, but nothing made much sense.
Then, I finally swam out of that hazy blackness and could actually see, and feed myself, although my entire body remained a mass of soreness and aches. One of the obdurate attendants watched closely, then took the empty tray away. That I’d been watched by an ob all the time suggested I’d been in a bad way.
I took stock of my physical situation. From what I could see, there were purplish-yellow bruises on my arms and my upper chest, and probably on my thighs, from the way they felt. How had all that happened? I’d held my shields and even angled and slipped them the way Maitre Dyana had drilled into me years earlier. Or had it been when I’d imaged back the shells or bombs or what ever had been aimed at the Collegium?
Draffyd appeared, and his eyes were ringed with black. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore and aching all over,” I admitted. “But I can see without everything blurring.”
“Your eyes were so bloodshot that they were more red than white. You’re fortunate to be alive.” He paused. “You were imaging behind shields, weren’t you?”
“Ah…not exactly. I was imaging beyond them.”
His eyes widened, but he only nodded. “Maitre Dyana needs to see you, but I’ve asked her to be brief. You aren’t ready to do much right now.”
“Seliora?”
“She and Diestrya have been staying in one of the empty rooms here. You can see her after Maitre Dyana.”
Draffyd hadn’t been gone more than a tenth of a glass before Maitre Dyana walked in-without one of her colored scarves.
She looked tired, but her words were as crisp and cutting as ever. “Some finesse would have made it easier on you, Rhenn, not that finesse comes that easily in the middle of the night when someone is dropping shells on you and your family.”
I just looked at her. “The shields and the finesse were the easy part. Imaging those shells back to their firing points was what hurt.”
For the only time in the seven years I’d known her, Maitre Dyana didn’t seem to have words. She studied me. Finally, she said, “From all the ice on the river, I wondered about that. How did you manage it?”
“I don’t know what happened, but, yes, I imaged some shells, two, I think, back to their starting point.”
“You never saw them.”
“I can do that. I’ve always been able to. I’ve done it with bullets before. I never tried it with anything that big. Just ask Draffyd or…What happened to Master Dichartyn?”
“Unlike you or me, he had no warning. The first shells hit his dwelling, and then Maitre Poincaryt’s. Dichartyn still managed to shield Aelys and the children.”
Dichartyn? Dead? How…? I swallowed. “Maitre Poincaryt?” I paused. “Then, you’re the Maitre of the Collegium?”
“Apparently, you should be. No one else can image ten-stone shells back a half mille and explode a floating battery. That’s the sort of thing that only Maitre D’Images can do, and not all of them.” The tired irony vanished from her voice “No one could figure out why the barges that held the bombards would suddenly explode after a handful of rounds. There was enough powder and shells to reduce the entire Collegium to rubble.”
“I was angry,” I admitted. “I really didn’t think.”
“It wasn’t the best for you that you reacted, but it doubtless saved most of the Collegium…Maitre.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough. I don’t even know enough to handle what Master Dichartyn did. Let them think you did it. You’ll need that leverage anyway.”
Dyana actually smiled, if but for a moment. “You won’t escape that destiny, Rhenn. You might be able to postpone it…but not escape it.” Her eyes took in my arms and chest. “It’s still a wonder you’re alive.”
“If any other masters need to know, tell them that it took both of us…or better yet, imply that without saying it.”
“You’ll still have to become a Maitre D’Esprit.”
“Can’t Schorzat take on…”
“No. He knows it. Dichartyn and he already discussed it. His shields won’t take the kind of beating yours can. Frankly, I’m not certain anyone else’s can.”
“Were they using the stolen bombards?”
“We think so. We really don’t have the time or the resources to dredge the Aluse to find out. They were set up on barges.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the heavier barges I’d seen in the past weeks had carried the bombards upriver. There really wasn’t any point in saying anything about that. What was done was done, and the Collegium-or the river force of the Civic Patrol-couldn’t have checked every barge on the river for weeks on end.
“What else happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“It was all part of a plan, wasn’t it? The stronger elveweed, the Ferran or Stakanaran funding of explosions and violence. I’d guess that the Ferrans have invaded Jariola by now…”
“Is this a guess on your part? Did you-”
/> “I told Master Dichartyn that was what I thought. We’ve lost two good captains in the Civic Patrol, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the subcommander weren’t involved as well, not that I could prove anything. Oh…and if you haven’t already, you might check with a Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. He has some knowledge about payments to Caartyl and Cydarth. Master Dichartyn probably told Maitre Poincaryt about all that, but I left it to them to tell you, and since I only told some of it to Dichartyn on Samedi morning….” I left the sentence uncompleted, feeling slightly tired just from speaking.
“For someone who almost died, you’re sounding suspiciously like Dichartyn. And, no, they didn’t get around to telling me all of that. What else is there?”
“Did Ferrum invade-” I had to know that.
“Yes…we just got word this morning. It doesn’t look good for the Jariolans.”
“The Council…what have they done?”
“Suyrien announced, on behalf of the Council, that the Northern Fleet would blockade all Ferran ports until the Ferran forces returned to their own territory and would regard any attempt to break the blockade as hostile action against Solidar. The Council also declared that the attack on Imagisle was an act of war.” Her voice turned wry. “They didn’t name who committed the act.”
“So we’re not technically at war?”
“Not yet. We may never be. The Council hates to do that because it gives more power to the Chief Councilor.”
“What about Otelyrn?”
She gave me a sidelong look, then said, “The Stakanarans have invaded the southernmost province of Tiempre, where the gold and diamond mines are. The Tiemprans are appealing for aid. They likely won’t get it…”
“Is Suyrien all right?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because he and Artois are obvious targets. I don’t know more than that.”
“There’s one other thing. You remember Johanyr?”
“Of course.” How could I have forgotten?
“He disappeared from Mont D’Glace. Several weeks ago.”
“You’d better let his sister know.” I had the feeling that his disappearance just might be linked to Iryela’s missing golds, even if I had no way to explain it.
“I already have.”
There were other things I should have asked, but I was getting tired and sleepy, despite wanting to know more…and even with all the aches and sorenesses.
Dyana stepped back. “Thank you. All that will be of great assistance.”
As soon as she left, Seliora and Diestrya were in the gray-walled chamber.
Seliora set Diestrya next to the bed, then bent over and kissed my cheek. The closeness of her, despite how everything hurt, felt so reassuring. Tears were seeping from her eyes. “I wasn’t certain…no one was sure…”
“I’ll be all right.” Now…or at least in time.
“Dada!”
“Your father hurts all over, sweetheart. Don’t touch him.”
“You’re all right?” I managed.
“We’re both fine.” She paused.
“What?”
“There have been fires and explosions all over the city.”
I nodded, if only slightly. “…not surprised…”
“Your parents are all right. So is my family, and they all know we’re safe. I sent courier messages saying you were recovering from working hard after the explosions on Imagisle.”
“Good…wouldn’t want them…to worry.”
“They had the memorial services for Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt and Madame Poincaryt last night.”
“I…would have…should have…been there…”
“Isola spoke so well. You would have liked what she and Maitre Dyana said.”
“…Always…speaks…well…” I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.
Seliora took my hand and held it while the hazy blackness crept up over me.
27
When I finally walked slowly out of the infirmary on Jeudi morning, gray smoke hung over all of L’Excelsis, and that was four days after the attacks. I was headed toward the administration building, thankfully only fifty yards away, to meet with Maitre Dyana before she convened the remaining senior imagers of the Collegium.
Just before I’d dressed, Seliora had told me that the imagers who specialized in construction had already begun repairs to our house. Apparently, ours was the only one that was merely damaged. Those of Maitre Poincaryt, Maitre Dyana, and Maitre Dichartyn had been totally destroyed, and no other dwelling had been touched, with the exception of the Collegium’s boat house on the east side of the river, which had also been destroyed. That bothered me, and it took me a while to realize why. Whoever had used the bombards had been very skilled, had great experience, and had clearly measured the distances from where the barges had been anchored-they had to have been anchored-to the masters’ dwellings. That required a very professional gun crew, and that meant Naval experience and careful advance planning.
I’d allowed a little extra time because I knew I wouldn’t be moving that quickly, and the outer anteroom was empty, except for Gherard, who was sitting at the desk. Both the door to the conference room, to the right, and the door to the Maitre’s study were open.
I nodded to Gherard.
“Good morning, Maitre,” he replied.
“I hope you’re holding up,” I said.
“Yes, sir.”
I stepped through the open doorway into the study, closed the door behind me, walked to the middle chair of the three facing the desk and eased into it. “Good morning, Maitre.”
Maitre Dyana was seated behind the desk in the study that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s for the entire time I’d been an imager-until now. I couldn’t see that much had changed in the study, but it was definitely hers, with a few small items here and there and touches of colors. Finesse had always been her emphasis. She had recovered-she was wearing a brilliant blue scarf to complement her imager grays-although I had the feeling that her iron gray hair was turning more toward white.
“Good morning, Rhenn, pleasantry though it is. I’m sorry you missed the memorial services, but at the time, no one knew how long it might be before you recovered. I’d hoped you might be able to say a few words.”
“I would have liked to. I owe them both more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“We never repay. We only pay for those who follow, and what you did saved others, just as what he did saved you.”
There was truth in that, but I would have liked to have acknowledged the debt publicly. Still…was that because…I almost shook my head. Master Dichartyn wouldn’t have cared about the public statements. In fact, he would have asked if I’d have wanted to speak to show my gratitude in order to prove something about myself. He would have been right, I suspected.
“You’ve been reading the newsheets, I presume?”
“I have.” What I’d read had confirmed my worst suspicions, what with explosions occurring all over Solidar, targeting grain facilities, ports and piers, and several main ironway bridges, including the one over the Aluse just north of Solis, which would delay and restrict the shipment of iron to the shipworks there. In the cities that had been receiving the stronger elveweed, riots had occurred in both taudis and non-taudis areas-with the exception of L’Excelsis, but L’Excelsis had suffered half a score of explosions. In Cloisera, the Jariolans had been pushed back fifty milles, and their coal fields were now under Ferran control. In Otelyrn, the Stakanaran army had seized a large section of western Tiempre.
“What is not in the news is that Suyrien was shot yesterday. The assassin fired a sniper’s rifle from a distance at his estate. The shooter was never observed. Suyrien may not recover, but if he does, he will not be in shape to act as head Councilor.”
“Hadn’t Suyrien just returned from visiting High Holder Ruelyr? I’d heard that Suyrien was less than pleased with something Ruelyr had done.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what it was,
other than that Suyrien felt it wasn’t in keeping with the responsibilities of being a High Holder. I wondered, though, because Ruelyr holds the lands that include some of northern part of the Sud Swamp, and that might be an ideal location for growing the stronger elveweed.” I watched Dyana closely as I finished.
She nodded slowly. “That is useful information, of which I was unaware. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Another problem is that Caartyl is acting as head of the Executive Council in place of Suyrien. That will not last, one way or the other. Caartyl claimed the post because Glendyl had to go to Ferravyl to deal with difficulties in obtaining iron for his rolling mills.”
“How does he stand on the blockade?”
“Caartyl supports it. He and the guilds don’t like the Ferrans any more than the Jariolans. He’s said that the factors of Solidar would prefer to replace all the guild members with steam-powered factorages manned by low-paid laborers.”
There was something about that…but I couldn’t grasp it.
“The High Holders have already selected Fhernon to fill Suyrien’s Council seat,” Dyana continued. “They’re petitioning the High Judiciary to have Councilor Ramsael take Suyrien’s position as head of the Executive Council. They claim that Caartyl was not selected in a formal Council session. To complicate matters more, several factors’ associations are petitioning to have the High Holders’ petition set aside until the next formal meeting of the Council, which is not scheduled until the eighteenth of Ianus.”
That was more than a month away. “They haven’t decided to meet formally any sooner?”
“That can only be decided by either the full Council or the unanimous vote of the Executive Council.”
I should have remembered that, but it had been several years since I’d last studied the Council’s parliamentary procedures. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” My greatest concern was that matters would get worse, especially without the moderating influence exerted by Maitre Poincaryt. No matter how capable and knowledgeable Maitre Dyana was, even as Maitre of the Collegium, the fact that she was a woman would weigh against her, particularly in dealing with High Holders. She certainly had the knowledge and understanding, because she’d come from a High Holder family, and she was a powerful imager; but she might have to use far more force, or the hidden threat of it, on the Councilors. I only knew that Ramsael was Alynkya’s father and had been slightly patronizing to me years before. Fhernon had commissioned several pieces from NordEste Design and had behaved with dignity and restraint, but that didn’t really tell me much about him.
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